


Fact or Fiction

by metarudogu



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metarudogu/pseuds/metarudogu
Summary: 2011, a burnt out Grand Piano was found at Florida Keys causing quite a bit of news. While Louis made a trip to Miami to help out a friend and came back to a fuming Lestat.
Relationships: Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The year is 2011, the world is still suffering from the Lehman Brothers crisis, Blackberry is the rage.   
> The vampires are living the high life and in the context of the story, :the whole gang had a big party at Maris' great hideout somewhere in (very rural) Italy a few months ago and someone had caused a rift between our protagonists. They had pretty much reconciled until a situation arise and Louis was called away to help.

There, I heard a step.

That familiar tread; boots on gravel, coming closer.

Then the creak of that sturdy door. Well yes, I had left it unlocked and no doubt someone familiar with my modus operandi would gain access without even trying, or using that spare key I had painstakingly replicated and personally placed in his negligent care. 

Up the stairs, the quiet step of a careful soul.

Can you tell a person from his tread I wonder? Perhaps not since we go and come so very silently, and we are a gathering of diverse personalities; it’s more certain we share this deadly trait with predators as they are in nature.

I was needlessly distracting myself, really.

The steps end up in the back parlour. I could have said 'Ah ha!' but we shall not have a row in the front parlour and 'keep it down' least we cause a pandemonium and bring in the law, or a riot of fans who, bless their sweet little hearts, still keep vigil despite the litany of sensitive new age blood gouging pretentious barbaric rouges.

“You never cease to surprise me.”

“That I did not tie you down to a chair and interrogate you?” I made a show of slowly rising from my couch, tossing off the bit of financial report I had long forgotten.

“Tear the door out rather, or ask imperative questions,” he quipped.

“You are turning into quite the smarty pants nowadays,” I had to say with a stern look directed in his face and placed a platonic kiss to each cheek.

“Your second eldest and nothing to show I daresay.”

Again that assuredly warm look of conspiring familiarity came about his face and his green eyes twinkled alluringly. In modern prosaic utterance, one could say I am a sucker for his cutesy gorgeousness. And who in the entire world, dead or undead, would have ever known Louis de Pointe du Lac, gentleman extraordinaire, was capable of flippancy? Or the explicit come-on so evident in his stance. I was at risk of disintegrating into a puddle if not for my stringent need to play disciplinarian.

Of course I missed him immensely even in the course of a night or two. Nonetheless I would rather pretend displeasure and affront after the way he had so suddenly departed with a note informing me of his leave of absence. And where to but that decrepit piece of dilapidated real estate our remaining tribe of survivors had inhibited for a short span, all in the name of helping out.

“Hobnobbing with mortals is a pastime I think you fancied.”

He did not take the bait. In fact just as likely to happen between long time friends or ancient lovers, he easily dismissed that. “It was quite clinical believe me, property valuators jump at anything nowadays since the Lehman brothers wiped their careers.” 

He took his habitual seat at the couch while I feint preoccupation, picking at the detritus of mailed, couriered documents stacked on the side table.

"So what is this about asking for favours? That little miscreant has his entourage of lackeys to do such grunt work."

"Precisely. They are not about."

"What rot," I pushed the pile of junk into the paper bin, it was a distraction fast losing its use because Louis would know I had no interest in them. "I loath to recall his spluttering about mountains full of diamond waiting to be mined; his festering cauldron brewing nonsense about acquisitions in Russia or some naught. All that grandiose, his empire, asking for help?"

"After the financial crisis they are worth little in terms of investment, or at least in this span of time when mortals deem diamonds nothing more than common stones, I have never favoured them personally,” Louis gave me a sidelong glance. “I thought you hardly paid any attention to that part of the conversation out at the pool side."

He dared challenge me!

Should I explain to you, my most avid readers? 

Why yes, we do keep to some semblance of human networking, socialising to keep abreast of all manners of miscellaneous nattering with our dwindling tribesmen. That latest debacle had left a smear we had only recently kerchooed out of our system like an annoying mortal flu bug.

And why should I defend myself? I always keep half an ear out for anything that involves my fledglings especially in the proximity of that demon child. 

"Don't tell me he has become an overnight pauper? What with him sharing pillow with Marius and tying him down with those two spastic retards," I refused to acknowledge it. 

"Lestat," he still looked relaxed and unruffled but that tone of voice said it all.

"Yes, don't call the kettle black, that sort of analogy comes to mind."

"It's the red tape they are working through, a mortal exercise of immortal proportions," he went on.

"You don't say. But pray tell since you know so much detail-"

"Only because Daniel was sharing his insight."

"Over-sharing, you mean, motor mouth he is," and this I did not like although I said no more knowing Louis' softness for the young ones. "He must be impressed you did not lose a single franc in the debacle."

"Never trust a deal so sweet as my father used to tell me."

"But you cannot teach an old dog new tricks it seems," I chose to sit at one of the arm chairs nearer the balcony and not at the couch, the significance was clear I would not forgive him easily this misdeed. "So you called on our attorneys to attend to his emergencies? You are not mindful of what he can sponge off these greedy creatures. Even without their cooperation he can extract every detail- it's more convenient than those backdoor applications cyber criminals must install."

I could see the first stirring of some emotion in Louis' face, the infinitesimal tensing around the corners of his mouth and the way his hands rested on the armrest, the curl of the fingers and the placement of his feet; I could read Louis like a book and I have numerous methods of revving up his emotions; and by Jove I would have that, a tiny voice said in my ear. 

"And you don't think if there is a real emergency Marius would not step up to the plate to bat a home run for his little boy?"

"Lestat, please."

"Lestat please? Lestat please don't ridicule? Or Lestat please not overreact?" I raised a brow, feeling my face turned hard with a cold smile. "I thought we were having a fine good few months here recovering from that ludicrous gathering over at Marius'."

"Nothing happened for the sake of God," Louis made a superior effort to be calm but his fingers dug into the armrest of the couch.

"He took you out without anyone's knowledge," I knew full well the tack had worked this time.

"I tried to call you but there was no signal in those remote regions," Louis was growing exasperated and all the more so since we traipsed over this terrain not too many months ago.

"He did not have the courtesy to ask me along with my fledgling."

"Desist piling on the excess of your grudge against Armand, Lestat," Louis stopped abruptly, a little belatedly as a soldier would when he had stepped on a wire and knew what was to follow.

"There, there. We were doing so well and you have to go say his name," I wagged a finger at him, triumphant sneer coming to my lips.

"I thought... we talked, of this. We will not succumb to pettiness." Louis stood up meaning perhaps to come to me but he knew it would do no good when the pieces were set.

"Oh much obliged to your bargain wheedling ways, tying my hands down with these rules. But, you know they mean nothing to me."

"I was trying to reason with you without your explosive, impetuous temper sabotaging us before we could begin," he started raising his voice to match mine. "The Chinese have it down pat when they talk about using paper to contain fire."

"Stop thumbing your nose, you aren’t all that pristine."

"I never pretend to Lestat. Why does it have to be the same march, the same war?"

"The same waltz of deception you mean," I could not be more delighted to see the flare of anger bringing colour to his pale facade.

"I never set out to deceive you, neither have I done anything to deceive you."

"But you continually set yourself out to be manipulated, to be caught in the devil's machination so much so I wonder."

"Why do you still feel so strongly against him? There is nothing between him and I," Louis walked purposefully to stand before me, his green eyes locked on mine. "Do you have to dredge up the past that has become nothing more than ghosts of a bygone era?"

When he saw I had nothing provocative to say his visage softened, "It was not Armand," Louis said now quietly, reasonably. "Daniel called me to help."

"And what does that mean? A peace offering presumably to make me feel better?" I had rebuffed his offer at peace making, and it gave me some dark and secret malicious joy to see him winch as if I had given him a slap to the face.

He tilted his head a little. His hand making that habitual gesture only to stop midway as he realised belatedly he had shorn his hair. Yes that. Perhaps I am petty but it riles me, everything about the cloak of incognito smacks of his annoying rebellion; feats of plebeian proportions; wearing rags and shoddy shoes, hacking off his hair. My nerves were already rubbed raw and this added to the sting.

Certainly for a mortal, yes, he would present quite a spectacle. Indeed he had practiced so much courtesy with that twit when he cannot for me, where is the justice in that! 

Let me describe the slim silhouette cut of that suit (I never knew about!); the thousand dollar price tag was well worth every franc although no runway waif on some nondescript chichi Parisian magazines could approach the cool debonair sleekness of my Louis. Even with his hair cut so short.

All the same it afforded me his naked expressions. With no veil to retreat behind, Louis looked for the world perfection that only existed in art.

Alas, I created this art, a mortal man captured and trapped in the frames of his canvas; I had pinned him to the board as surely as any taxidermist, and there he is, his perfection on display for the world to behold. Or more to the point, I had selfishly held to my bosom and for sixty over mortal years I had him boxed up in a glass case. You would be mistaken to say I regretted those times; in spite of the pain and horrific turn of fate, if anything it was Armand walking into the final act and stealing my thunder that had me wrung up till now.

But he is hardly the man, the monster he used to be. He had, as he told me many times, endured and changed, and he had been humbled with time through interactions with mortals and immortals alike quite unlike my lofty imperious ways.

"If it soothes you," Louis said quietly. "I find no comfort knowing you have worked yourself into a stew over this Lestat. Your exacerbating aspirations are beyond me.

"Even if you will not agree, I hope you find the truth in my words. It certainly is not within my character to hurt you not especially now that we have found peace in togetherness. If you continue undertaking such folly for amusement, nay I say entertainment; then it would have made a fool of us. Our... relationship, if you will only acknowledge it, is it a travesty?." 

Not within my character to hurt you?

Why the gall to say that! Perhaps only Louis could. All these fledglings, all of mine own creations are always the very pins and needles that prick and prod me through eternity with their incessant bouts of defiance.

"Bravo, Louis. Bravo. That we have not started brawling and destroying the parlour gives you the right to fecilidad?" I asked him furiously through gritted teeth.

"And I am to believe just like that? I have been- no, I am still being, through all these decades, decimated by your drool masochism and I am to just sit and behave like a good little prat? That demented devil bids his time, waiting for you to play into his hand. His ploy to wreck this peace we have together and for which he so glaringly lacks in his insipid dysfunctional life. He has grown more bold over the years!"

Even a monster knows what belongs to him! I reined in the words at the tip of my tongue; it would have infuriated him to hear that...

Louis bore every word like a veteran facing a hailstorm of attacks, with a countenance of serene stoicism. My fusillade of accusation hardly dented his panoply, and I would have gladly gathered arms for another charge if not for the warning glint I spied in his darkened eyes. Sometimes even in the vortex of a maelstrom one had to observe decorum. What decorum you might say could govern creatures like us? 

I could hear the softest breath he took, and I waited like all good gentlemen. How provincial it would be to completely forgo the rules. You must understand, we do so have such personal fondness for protracted altercations?.

"And I miss you too," he said sotto voce.

He turned and quietly left as he came, not hurrying one bit. Calm tight-ass as only Louis could be.

The surprise silenced me for a full minute and it flashed into red hot anger. I was expecting something far more flaying than that... Why must he be so maddening?

I was winding myself up into one tight bundle of explosive anger. The paper gathered in my fist had been crushed into a tiny pallet, I watched them fall soundlessly on the floor. The insignificance of it, the mundane nothingness of these drone mortal communication full of noise and colour; chock-full of nonsensical commercial seduction; empty promises to dreary shallow transient happiness; everything fueled my growing temper.

Of course I was right to be angry with him. I had every right. 

I am his maker!

By God's bleeding heart, he was wrong. He left defeated because he knew it would be futile to argue for his innocence. He went to Armand!! Of all among our pantheon of immortal Gods he had to choose the worst of the lot. I was fuming. I will not yield this time, this was beyond me. I had been a saint of compassion and patience, he broke the peace. 

From the very start, we should never had agreed to join the reunion; it was David's fault to have persuaded Louis and I eventually, doubtless it was Jesse who convinced her once superior and now best friend. And Daniel! Yes, that weasel was instrumental in recruiting Jesse. The root of our trouble was that brazen little demon boy.

Staring at the grains of fallen pallets, I realised some were getting charred! I could very well set the flat on fire... Constructively I could buy one of those air guns and load them up with these paper pallet then shoot the house so full of pallets that he would be driven to distraction- don't think for a second all that rubbish about his mucking about in dirt is true, mind you Louis can be a bloody fastidious freak otherwise he would not have lived so long in a flat such as ours stuffed full of Rocco splendour.

What in hell am I doing!

I rubbed a hand over my eyes, my head pounded with all the pent up pressure, my body felt ready to go a dozen places; tear up the town, paint it red! Kill!! I must kill something to sate this coiled up monster in my belly tearing to get out or I might just kill Louis in a fit.

Of course the hell with it, I could never do such a thing even in the fit of anger, we have infinitely more control over our powers as we grow more accustomed to using it.


	2. Chapter 2

Where should I find him of all places but our bubbling fountain. Standing at the well worn edge, watching the water with a strange concentration even as the sightless eyes of cherubs watched him.

This was our congregation area in happier days. She would walk on the rim with ease, Louis telling her it was not a lady-like habit only to encourage her to more antics. It was pointless admonition and he had that special indulgent smile of doting parents on his lips as he shook his head and looked over to me. I treasured these shared moments. It was here every time without fail, we put away the difficulties of the day, the unhappiness in the evening. Epic quarrels and fisticuffs that showed enough of Louis' skills in bare-knuckle fighting. We had learnt to dust off the bitterness and anger of many a disagreement before we returned home, contented to enjoy the congenial atmosphere of family bliss.

As if my thought had leapt out to touch him, he turned on cue and our eyes locked instantly.

His expression was soft and open. "I didn't think to find you here."

I was more than relieved to hear the familiarity there. No hesitation, no suspicion. Because Louis believed in our ability to come to agreement.

There had been many times right after our reunion when my quick temper and self recrimination awashed me in unbearable horror of what had become of little o'me and I never thought to burden him with my ineptness to deal with the beast I had become. Those forgotten years. Getting wasted, killing and drinking to oblivion. Pushing myself past every conceivable limit, flying through time and distance; hunting vicious killers or scouring the Talamasca library for useless relics; making another fledgling... I was always good at avoiding, count on the brat to pull a Houdini act.

I ran the gauntlet of wicked antics so to say. And the volatile fuel of raging madness, the furor burnt over bright and scorched the earth, the resultant meltdown was... honestly there was too much off-kilter rumblings and too little substance but it was deign enough misery for monetisation, a blown out tale of strange psychedelic experiences that could have done better with a title like "Lestat Meets the GoatMan" than "Mr. M" (unmentionable, of course!). 

The time of juvenile antics was over. I didn't particularly care. I had moved on. I was lucky it didn't take a torching fire this time.

Let us concentrate on the now. The immediate. And I was glad for our predictable need for habits, for age old rituals, to help us take away awkward salutations after a monumental showdown. Only old old lovers, the wrinkled and hobbled mortals know this; they knew nobody could stay sulky and cold with each other for too long. We had years of disagreement, we had years of reconciliation. Our common perceptions, our habits were weapons against loneliness, against the insanity eroding our immortal brains, our personalities that defined us. Above all things we could not keep apart simply because without each other we would be no better than beasts.

Just to bask in the attention of those vivid green eyes was enough to gladden my wizened heart. But to admit to that was another thing altogether. So I walked to the fountain with my usual haughty jaunt, not at all willing to show I had long forgiven him. So I stopped beside him but at the same time kept a small distance between us but this put me rather grudgingly a good head shorter since he remained at the ledge of defiance. I quietly followed his lead, looking at the fountain and the little habitat there. Louis had a group of mortals do landscaping duty and miscellaneous tasks like keeping the fish alive, keeping the house in order.

In the aftermath of natural and man made disasters, the young and old of New Orleans were still struggling though bravely trudging on as always. We had lived in the same locale for more than two decades now, the neighbourhood was bound to draw some conclusions. Despite our need for privacy and secrecy, it was our civic duty to help even if it meant exposing ourselves to the occasional knowing souls. But of course this was an old city where preternatural happenings were part and parcel of life. Not to mention my books had literally put an “X” to mark the spot for exhibit “L” and “L”. 

Today what I saw in the sparkling clear water were not flashes of gold, the usual myriad of tiny wriggling bodies were replaced by some eel-like monstrosity. 

"What prehistoric creature have you planted in my utopia?" They looked carnivorous, there was no doubt wherefore my pets had gone. "They have all but gobbled up my goldfish, the greedy ruffians."

"Gold fish are high maintenance."

"And your dinosaurs are not? They will eat a hole in your precious coffer."

"We have insects aplenty, they hardly need my attention."

"You have your aqua thugs dine in my Eden?”

He arched a brow. “When was it last you stood here with any patience to look at the courtyard at all?"

"Now that's an unfair accusation," that got my back up instantly. But I knew that was not it. I had not been in the most amenable mood then, and now I must try to be receptive, not overbearing. "I was busy."

"Of course," he demurred.

Had he forgotten this latest debacle was his doing, not mine? 

"I was busy too," he had the cheek to say that. 

"Talking to number crunchers?" I prompted.

"Now that you mention it, Bloodsucking lawyers." 

"Are you sure that was the only bloodsucking involved?" I intoned. 

"Blood letting perhaps."

"Oh please Louis, that can't be right," I scoffed with mock horror. 

"Everyone was on their best behaviour," as if it was an afterthought, his hand made an eloquent gesture of impatience. "The ambient music though... I think there is a limit to repetition even to the preternatural mind."

"I thought that Miami bunker is an apocalyptic ruin by now," I mused, the Night City long shuttered like so many modern man-made oasis gone silent in the aftermath of the financial disaster.

"It is. That is why..." He flicked a half glance at me, testing the grounds. "The papers are signed and processed as of this morning."

"You're abetting this nasty coup."

He couldn't hide the discomfort. "With the current climate, it does not make any sense holding onto water logged properties. I vetted the contracts and details otherwise I would never have helped Daniel."

"Weren't they living the high life, it's not as if they are in dire need of anything." 

"I want to do what I can for Daniel."

"I don't believe you've ever been as considerate with me," I scowled.

"You have no patience for this."

"Not so. And I don't mean-"

"You like spending more than making, admit it Lestat," he folded his arms. 

"My expenses are justified."

"Fifteen shirts in the latest summer palette? You must have them specially ordered from Italy when they are easily available anywhere."

"Nobody here makes them."

"And they are not single-wipe disposables."

"I do-not use those washing cauldrons."

"Washing machines Lestat. Leave them in the hamper for the day staff."

Should I really be feeling so warm and tipsy with this all so domestic talk all of a sudden? That it made me reminiscent of those days, the golden standards and not- let's be realistic, he killed me twice! Oh woe is me! I didn't care much for dignity or anger, or possessiveness any more. I took the full measure of him and said seriously. "You do realize you have been perfectly horrendous to me?"

Louis did not speak, his face not entirely serious with none of the cynical anger. "Me?" 

"For a start, be straight with me. What's this getup? When did you spirit off to get measured for this?"

"Jesse sent it as a gift."

Oh I was going to howl. Louis with his uncanny intuition added without breaking his pace. 

"She wanted me to wear it as an 'appeasement piece' should such an occasion arise," soft colour suffused his face. 

Should I laugh or cry? Me, my traits deciphered by fledglings. Me, predictable? Or Louis being a sympathy magnet and all these new aged vampires gravitating to him, plying him for information, basking in the verdant glow of his attention. And how about Jesse knowing about Louis' measurements? When were they ever so intimate with personal details? Louis' measurements for the love of God!

He drew over me purposefully and hooked an arm about my shoulders, pulled me close tightly as if to make me a prisoner to his sentiment."I do not question your need to roam, to mark, or to throw up a ruckus; test the boundaries and push the limits because I know your temperament all too well. I only ask for your trust and faith in mine."

"I understand. I know this all too well," I met his eyes and held his questioning imploring gaze now not with accusation nor temper. “But I can’t change instinct. Do you understand, lover?

He smiled wearily. "And I am to accept this."

"As I understand and accept your compulsive need to explore ways to sidestep my simplest requests. You trust too easily and try too hard to placate, to assist in endeavours these young ones put together to snare and abuse your good will," I maintained earnestly. "I read the intent of their ruse easily. Perhaps most of the time they are frivolous and harmless but occasionally... like the last fiasco-"

He took a deep breath and let it out like a sigh, eyes closed in a long moment of melancholic contemplation. "I am marooned on an isle of my own making. Though no longer would I perceive it as imprisonment, seclusion breeds insanity no matter that this be my Shangri-La. Your company has staved off much of the pain but it also augmented our need for others. Daniel and Jesse have given me much reprieve, diversion of which I seek from others before this even for their shallowness. But who am I to pass judgement since I spend eternity hanging about the shadows as you put it?"

"You mock me Louis. You have shown me time and again you had the best of company without me."

"Do you need my reiteration?"

"I never said that."

"Not-a-thing happened," his voice carried a tinge of exhaustion.

"Don't you see what his ploy made you go through?"

"His," he muttered, running a hand through his short hair and realizing again it was so. "Lestat you are swift to negate all responsibility and plant it under another's flag."

"Short hair doesn't become you."

"Liar, you like it," he looked at me from that lofty height with mock condescension.

"Well, maybe the occasional surprise-"

"We must always challenge our perceptions of each other."

"Where did that come from? I like the look of my lover as he is and if society doesn't think its de rigueur, they can very well change their standards."

A wistful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Understanding between lovers breeds constant compulsive separation because we know too much forgiveness..."

"Need it be so?" I could not say we had any more left for another slugfest.

"Modern literature has a word for this, a Catch 22."

"Au contraire, we always agree to disagree," I suggested airily.

"I want of us an arcadian existence Lestat; or perhaps more likely, some agreeable peace."

"You know that cannot be, you don't want that. You will be bored with everything, with me."

"That is wholly your opinion," he breathed through his nose, impatient and moody. "I cannot see why being disagreeable makes you excellent company."

"Mooning over each other does not make congenial company either," I looked him in the eye now, needling him to disagree with me.

"Your preoccupation, I do so demur."

"So you have people think you, Louis de Pointe du Lac, always has his nose stuck in a musty novel?"

"I care very little for the opinion of others, you are the one who insist on continuing to publish these anonymous snippet of nonsense-"

"Oh no, definitely not anonymous after all I am writing about ourselves independent from the witch who continues wringing money from a dried out muse. I have complete freedom to create and publish as I like and readers can take from them whatever they like."

"You can beat about the bush all you like but the fact remains we cannot agree."

"And I say agreement makes us poor company. For the love of God, differences make for a more exciting world."

"I am past patience with this discussion," Louis tried to push off of me to walk away but I held on tightly. "What? More famous last words?"

"Then, the Deus ex machina? To go up there and get it over with?" I waggled my eyebrows in an exaggerated show of lasciviousness, groping him for added effect. "We both know that is the most exquisite prospect to any evening. There is no need for clever repartee and we have complete understanding of what we want. We also have aligned interests in the exercise. No argument there from the gentleman who so likes to disagree and be disagreeable with the Marquis."

He laughed trying to extricate himself without much success. His plan to exert influence over me by placing me at a lower stature had backfired now no doubt.

His laughter, at one time I thought there would never be another chance to hear it. "So by and by, is there a second part to this act?"

"Second part?" he was too busy prying my hands away.

"It's an appeasement act you mentioned," I could not help but grin, the gloom lifted instantly when Louis smiled in that distracted way. "So there is a seduction act next?"

"I-," he had trouble forming a comeback, the blood he had taken earlier roared into his face turning him a delicious pink; I knew the reason and I took the opening to press my point.

"Jesse would not think so literally you mean, or Jesse knows it would not have taken that much," I smoothed a hand down his jacket to slip the button. "Slim cut vest. You do so like these hangman's noose," I felt him shudder as my nails grazed his neck. "Very nice shirt, delectable little buttons too," my fingers meander over his chest with deliberation as I took in the dark intensity of his eyes.

"Jesse thinks of everything. So it'll be like unwrapping my early birthday present wouldn't it?"

"What birthday?" he snorted with mock severity.

"The one you forgot because we were doing the Cold War set you ingrate."

"I most certainly did not, and monsieur unhand me this instant," he tried unsuccessfully to get serious.

I could tell you honestly there was a limit to how even Louis could admonish unruly behaviour when he was a willing participant of our expedition.

"I was expecting something more intimate and personal than a cold piece of electronic."

"You prefer to command without retort, it goes without saying electronics of this era are just the thing for you," he stifled another chortle. "The last BlackBerry to protest had become landfill-"

"Who was the one responsible for its demise Louis?"

"I think you overestimated my role in this."

That was a totally different story for another day, my dear poppets but I will divulge this much, the phone in question did not live up to its promises and Louis was an active player in its tragedy.

A mortal once said the secret of happiness is to face the fact that the world is horrible, horrible, horrible. It is true to say happiness is beget in a world of misery. If we walk on clouds of contentment, we cannot have stayed together for this many years. You would not need my divulgence of how the night went. Thanks to Armand's machination this could be filed away as a very significant chapter in the story of our lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Much apologies for not mentioning earlier: everything up till Merrick.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke to the buzz of the air conditioner compressor revving up.The room was freezing. 

While coldness is not detrimental to our health, and unlike cold blooded creatures that require heat to survive, heat for us is more a psychological need; much like having Coke or Diet Coke, an analogy to help you understand our situation better although the fizz of that fuzz continues to delude me.

Turning the device off and opening the windows to let in the natural heat of the day, I was grateful to be the first to awaken since the cold affected Louis more. His upbringing in this far flung outpost made him more of a tropical Frenchman than the likes of me, a provincial Marquis born in a snowy ditch.

Why the need for air conditioning in January you wonder? You must be imagining now standing here in this room looking at a rich canopy bed, silken sheets and such. Yes. yes, the vivid imagination of our readers. How about a roomful of classical paintings, rich wall paper with luscious carpets and intricate decorations?

How I must disappoint you. In a house full of Rococo furnishing this room is entirely incongruous. This room has all the trappings of modern technology. Excellent sound proofing, durable platform where a simple mattress is placed; it's sparse and in keeping with our highly disposable lifestyle. It's also not my idea, I'm sure you know exactly the manner of profligate lifestyle I advocate but I'm trying to humour our penny pinching philosopher here so help me God.

Do you ever wonder about the reality of things for us? Well, pure rhetoric fancy. Inquisitive little things you are. Admit it! You wouldn't be here otherwise. Strike that out. Rewind, start again: Can you imagine the animalistic candour of pure need?

When we say ‘need’, it is delineated into the physical. Modern societies are mostly well fed, even the poorest in the streets have more than straw and fleas, that was what life doled out in my past. Even though I knew the most desperate of mortal need, when I transcended the flesh, it went beyond anything mortal; the need for blood etches a notch so far away it's indefinable on any man made scale of measurement, Marslow be damned.

Preternatural need is a primordial dark ooze, a need that suffuses us at a molecular state, pure instinct. It drives us into a state beyond reason, it's a miracle we've not killed each other many times over when this happens. All powerful with the blood of Eve, the mother of our kind; can anyone imagine the power gifted to me? Of course I tried to put it on paper, I tried to describe everything in words, to have thoughts and actions translated into something comprehensible for mortals, that's why I talked about movies because the impossible's created on screen all the time.

Be reminded vampires are hardy creatures with skin like armours of wild animals. A creature of the jungle can break and tear a human asunder without trying. A mortal is a fragile infant in the hands of a vampire, even without intending hurt, a vampire can inflict fatal injuries. Any newborn is capable of this. A vampire of a few centuries as my Louis would prove far more deadly. Let me forewarn you innocent readers, he is more vicious than his alluring charms suggests. Gentleman Death is a peaceful stroll in the park, nothing messy, nothing too complicated.

I do love to devote more time on that topic but let’s stick to this one first. Now pay attention. 

Reality is not all glamorous. A monster exists on a plane far removed. My new prowess makes me an entirely different monster. It elevates me far beyond a century-old vampire or vampire elder who thinks himself untouchable, they're nothing compared to the children of the Millenium; to what I became, they're as vulnerable as babes; for me, mon Louis is an easily bruised lily.

He had woken only just and gone straight into a mortal slumber. I always take time to bring Louis back to the living. After a night of our brand of passion, being hungover would be the least of Louis' milady. Bending down I kissed his cold cold lips. We would take all the time to revitalise Louis, make him comfortable. There's a routine we adopt after a particularly energetic night. But it's not the thoughtfulness of the routine or the practicality of the routine that matters really, it's the celebration of our closeness, the sublime way we connected, and the fact I'd not killed him in a fit of passion.

That reminded me to reschedule the engagement with our mortal contacts. A normal evening would be quite leisurely even if we expected company. Most mortals who frequented our premises were familiar with the notion of us, gentlemen extraordinaire; who persisted on turning a blind eye and insisted on indulging the extravagant habits of Frenchies of questionable lineage and even more questionable inheritance, the vieux riche that still inhabit these lands, this piqued Louis to no end and he hated playacting for their benefit.

And I must return my attention to the present because I heard somebody at our backdoor. It was ridiculous some recreate thought they could barge into New Orleans and invade our home. But not this thick head who persisted on going at the knocker with a vigour to bring in the foot patrol. The gate rattled, Louis had locked it upon entering the night before or the morning staff had locked it after tidying the place.

"Loud enough to wake the dead?" he grinned that loop sided fool's grin of his, entirely unapologetic.

He gained entry obviously without permission and I opened the door to stare at him without a word so much so that he squirmed uncomfortably.

"Right. Nice outfit by the way," his eyes gave me a licking once over.

Now my dearest poppet, that's to say I hardly bothered and was putting another twist to the sarong so it wouldn’t completely unravel. "What do you want? Haven't you stirred up the hornet's nest already."

"I want to come explain everything, that you don't go bang him up for nothin'."

"Don't be a bloody smart ass."

"Yeah really? You're a bigger badass than the almighty. So where's Louis? You know, it totally sucked cause I took the commercial flight out here and spent the whole Goddamn day in some stinkin' hanger frying my butt."

"Now that you mentioned it, you ooze a certain pong."

"Alright, hey thanks a lot. Did you-" he tried to squeeze past me but obviously I was having none of that and he backed up quickly, he was a lot smarter than I would credit him for. "Whoa, whoa cool it 'kay! I just want to see him."

"You think if I killed him the world wouldn't have shown up by now?" I asked him drily.

"Nailed me there, don't think you'll give a shit if they knew."

"Pissant like you care more for Louis? The very thought of it," I scoffed. "Go back to wherever hole you came from and don't come back."

Daniel took a step back but didn't start walking, his face gaining a determined look. "I still wanna see him. He's too much of a gentleman to leave me at the door. If he's inside, he would've asked me in, you know that sort of thing. So where's he?"

"You were with him not a few hours before, you don't need to ascertain his existence. What if he misses New Orleans more than your palatial dungeon, eh?"

He eyed me suspiciously. "You busy making up for lost time? He's only been away for 2 days and nothin' but the most boring shit happened, cross my heart, why not pull it from my brain? It's not the boss for freakin' shit's sake. I asked Louis to help 'cause Armand's totally anal about keeping that fucked up place when there's oil freaks who'll give us a fortune for it, said they want a Las Vegas in Miami or something. It's a whole load of legal crap and I've got shit for brains so who do I call?"

"The ghost busters?" I intoned wryly.

"Ha ha grandpa. You're a real piece of work Lestat, really you are. No wonder Armand gets all twisted up when he talks about you."

"His knickers, or he contorts?"

"Jesus, you plan on holding me up forever or you're letting me in already?"

"Your presence is not welcomed. As for whatever courtesy crap, send a card over or Louis didn't teach you the rudiments of being a gentleman?"

"C'mon Lestat, stop being a pain in the ass."

"Don't think that'll happen."

"Yeah, bring it on any time," he grinned with a wink.

"You're hardly one to talk. Your stupidity caused us trouble beyond my tolerance."

"Oh yeah? And you're a Saint? Your shit pile makes you king of the mountain any time dude, I'm just a fly in the cesspit."

"What delightful metaphors Daniel."

"We talk about 'Me' and 'I' a lot these days but nobody got a load of you, your whole fucked up psychology of 'Your-Way' because what, he's 'Your-Property'? Grow up Lestat, he's got a life too."

"Where's your collar Daniel? Haven't Armand handed you over to Marius for keeps along with your new found siblings?"

"Screw that!" Daniel burst out angrily. "You know your problem? I don't think you fucking know for crying out loud."

"An ignoramus like you bunking with a pair of dimwits and a degenerate master? What would you know?"

"Fucking Hell! Just keep hiding behind that suave continental poetic crap. Just because you wrote that narcissistic memoir and sold millions, and everyone thinks you're some wise cracking old fart taking on the fucking world, and 'cause nobody bothered to blather how you screw things up don't mean We will let you off for being a jerk with Louis. He needs other people."

"Just so you know, you're not organic goop smeared over my front stoop, goes to show I am a refined Cultured Continental Jerk."

His face scrunched into a scowl. "You keep stirring things up, pulling the rug from under people's feet and expect him to let things slide? He's too much of a crusader to not blow his top. You don't go scald free just because you don't bother about his opinion."

"You shoot off your mouth when you are on the roll?"

"Yeah, so what if Armand talks to Louis? Have some inferior complex issues? Wanna see who's the bigger dickhead?"

"How far would you go if I walloped your head, I mean your decapitated head that is," I stretched a hand over his direction and sent him scrambling away in a panic.

"Oi, hey!" he shouted waving his hands like a flipped insect flailing its arms frantically.

"Lestat that will be enough excitement for our guest."

"Hey Louis man!" Daniel half shouted in relief, huffing and quivering.

"Ah, the cavalry has arrived," I sighed.

"Do refresh yourself first and we can talk later," Louis' voice was soft coming from upstairs.

"Of course," Daniel grinned and hurried to the door, turning back once to flip me the finger before disappearing.

"Cretin lucked out again," I was none too pleased with the turnout.

"He needs his arm or leg broken," I grumbled.

Louis gave a shake of his head more to clear his head then to negate my words. "Be civil Lestat," his word sounded slightly slurred. Languor had steeped his bones, ennui weaved into the passing of every minute. His breath was laboured. I could hear him keenly.

"Suffering from your excesses Louis?"

He sat at the edge of the bed, his hair had grown long in the daytime, artfully disheveled.

"Let me fix you something to start the night," I combed his wayward hair aside. "I promise it'll hardly be enough to mutate a few atoms."

He licked his lips, the haziness in his eyes turning into something feral, hunger sang in the thick tension between us. You must understand this had nothing to do with sentiment, rational thought could no more stand against immortal hunger than love. 

"You need it. After all you did promise Daniel," I kept my voice light.

Like morphine injected into suffering patients, the drug wouldn't make them addicts. My potent blood when introduced in small dosage wouldn’t change Louis but it would alleviate the effects of our rough tumble. It pained me that he suffered, our price of passion. And more so because he wouldn’t take my blood to become stronger. The intricacies of our disagreements were confounding as they were irretrievably tangled and forever unresolved. As to why it had to be so convoluted, even I was unable to decipher any more. We had gone over this more times than I cared to remember. At the beginning it was the worst reason for staying away from each other when we needed each other the most.

Oh, was this a bit of a heart attack for you dear reader? Little devil Lestat actually admitting this? Didn’t you read the first two books diligently or did you carelessly skip over to read the dastard trash sequels and thought they were gold? 

Mercy, have more faith in me! I couldn't not love him. I couldn't not have him with me, not after all the years of loneliness and suffering. Could I pretend it doesn't affect him as well? Could I run? Where would I run to? Or should I make more vampires, create a dynasty with all the power bequeathed upon me so The Vampire Lestat no longer sees dissent, disagreement? What would that bring me? Could it be happiness if all was perfectly agreeable?

Come now, let's not be naive. Not seeing wouldn't mean the ugly truth, the horrors of our disposition, the antithesis of our very existence could be erased. In the natural course of life temperaments shift like tides, there would be times of wonderful romanticism like now, there would be times where a mutual agreement for a few weeks of separation was in order. It didn’t mean a formal excommunication and end of the world war with words, burning the bridge and all that histeria. There was for sure a lot of theatrics and hyperbole, you couldn’t expect French men to argue any more than the British to talk about the weather.

But by God, no it didn’t lead to a meeting with The Goatman! Clean your memories with those vile smelling chemicals. I admit to being laid out comatose for months and months, it was the immortal mind going for the equivalent of a defragmentation of the century. It was not the easiest period of time for Louis although it did bring the rest of our immortal tribe together, it gave them the reason to recognise mental health as a prevalent issue. 

Did I say that with conviction? Forsooth, it was a good enough reason for everyone to clump together, exchange contacts, business cards and smooches. Dare I say Lestat was doing good all over again? Marius declared it important for everybody to attend an annual conference/reunion at his villa from that year onwards. It was good for a year or two before his adopting the idiots from Armand drove everybody away. 

Needless to say Louis and I reconciled. It was between patient and caretaker, convalescence and recovery; a long period of time, blessed darkness and quietude. Almost a decade where we stopped being presumptuous of each other, we stopped assuming and typecasting; we re-learnt each other’s idiosyncrasies and tried to move beyond our differences. It was during this period of time, dear discriminating readers, tomes of the most out-of-character and fantastical story lines were published. Have you chosen to read them? Eagerly? I imagine you would jump for it?

All good and well, even better if you'd question the possibility of all those events, the likelihood of them happening. Let me ask you, could you imagine Louis bedazzled by a big bosom, dark skin witch, or make her into a vampire or end his life? Truth be told the money hungry machines churning out these computer generated words were well aware you poor darlings wanted a dollop of my sweet Louis, having subsisted on mere pages of brief mentions in my novels, that must have fired up quite the appetite. 

Blood being the great equaliser, who wouldn’t be bedazzled by a big bosom dark skin beautiful female? But to make a vampire of a witch and then to seek an end? The reason being our most beloved daughter? Let me take you into my confidence and tell you, indeed Louis and I, we had many heartbreaking moments talking about our daughter; we could never forgive the disastrous impulsive decision but we could never regret her company. It's part of our reality, we would never forget but Louis would never be in such a hopeless depression. You see when I said Louis was the most deadly? He's a pragmatic first and romantic last; even in the most desperate hour, he chose to live. The most reckless decision he ever made was to throw his life away and come with me. In any case, we had many hours of picking through those tomes, being affronted and in the end we agreed she knew how to wring the money tree for what it's worth. Louis was suitably humoured to read of my speaking with the Pope, picking up another green eyed black haired boy in the most unlikely Blackwood Farm.

“Lestat."

I'm brought to the present instantly. Louis, trying to rein in the hunger, the muscles of his body taut and sheened with sweat. For Louis to drop all his intellectual trappings, his hesitation and indecision; it was more than what I could ask for. To be caught, to be once again the victim; to be his one and only focal point. Exquis! I die for this. Pliant, I offered myself up to him even if ever so self-conscious of the presentation I made: dropping down to my knees and sitting back on the balls of my feet, I moved my hair back from the long straining column of my throat.

“I am all yours,” I whispered, never quite able to stray from the need for dramatic effect. 

Perhaps words were not called for because for a second he seemed to rouse and frown, reason warring for control with instincts, he drew in short rapid breaths. And I knew if left to his devices, Louis would bolt, I must take control of the situation. I brought my right hand up and his fevered eyes latched on the movement instantly, this would do. I slashed a thin line across my neck and blood welled from the wound.

This was all it took, the smell drove Louis to distraction. Instantly he was transformed to his most primal form, his starving body needed blood desperately. A blur of a movement and he slammed into me, hard body smashing against me and I held my ground, digging my toes in and pushing right back. Ah, my sweet paramour no longer holding back, his sharp fangs sliced into the already healing wound and then what followed was pure bliss. What I prayed for, the silk of his lips on the sensitive flesh of my neck, the first keen hard suction, drawing blood in a mighty drought and another, and another. 

My heart was singing. Every part of Louis plastered against me now alive, a pulsating organ of pure need. His strong fingers clutching at the meat of my shoulder, and the other hand holding the back of my head with restrained gentleness. Oh, even in the midst of animalistic passion, so Louis. I needed no gentleness. I'd not been half as considerate the night before, slashing him open, piercing his flash with my fangs; it was a semblance of love making but it was not, full of teeth, hard bruising kisses but most of all blood but not a drop had been wasted, the sheets crumpled and torn to shred but unstained, absolutely fastidious compared to messy mortals.

I felt him in the kiss of blood. The connection between us not of thoughts, more than that, much more, it was the encompassing deep emotions that bridged all differences, drawing us together and that cleaved open his secret heart and gave me everything. His emotions, his needs, his all consuming love. All of it for me for the taking.

He wrenched himself away suddenly, stumbling and crashing into the side, the heavy door of the armoire splintered on impact. Louis was woozy, his seething shuddering breath loud and wet. 

“Louis!”

He held up a trembling hand, imploring patience. I longed to go to him. He was in pain, the hunger gnawing at his control and he was fighting to put it back into its veritable cage. But what was more formidable than the hunger? Louis' indefatigable will. Did you question why Louis wants to remain in this state? Of course we talked, we quarrelled and I riled against his stubborn resistance, his refusal to drink from me so he could take the power. But certainly I also understood this power held more sway over many of my decisions, sometimes more than I care to admit, it became more and more difficult to fight preternatural instinct.

He went to the closet to get himself in order and it didn't take long to be all covered up, almost human looking if you could ignore the nervy shift of his penetrating green eyes, the tension across his shoulders and most of all his alarming pallor, the flesh of his skin pulled taut across his cheeks. Louis needed blood, all that I had taken from him the night before.

I went to him, helplessly protective of his weakened state. "I can't but wonder why you put up with me," I blurted out.

"What are you saying?" His entire expression softened, concern coming off him in almost palpable waves, ambrosia to my wretched heart.

"You don't take the blood-"

He stopped me with a hand over my mouth, the softest contact, Louis' love enveloped me like a shroud. "I chose this."

"It can't go on like this.”

"Give me time.”

"We are not made for this savagery-”

"You are going to hurt your image of a cool Princeling saying things like that. You excel in every vampiric aspect especially that.”

"Don't give me that Louis, we are not talking of pedantic nonsense perpetuated in writing done in moments of fancy.”

"It brings us back to the beginning, doesn't it?”

"What?”

"The chasm that separates us.”

"Are you going to say it's my fault things got to be this way?”

"I don't pretend to be able to soothe over all my grievances with one cathartic deluge.”

My long silence was enough to make him uneasy. “You want to write another book?” 

He looked stunned and then burst out laughing. It annoyed me when it got this way, I didn't like it one bit. “Louis.”

“Wait,” he smoldered the next chortle with the back of his hand. “Just hear me out.”

I gathered him in my arms, holding him loosely so he could break away if it was too much. I couldn't stay away from him and I couldn't even imagine how things were the way they were now. “If you feel half of what I feel for you,” I buried my face in the crook of his neck. “You will not deny me, you bastard.”

The thrumming tension tapered off and he became quiet in my embrace, I felt the heave of his chest and his hands splayed on my waist. The straining raw emotions ripping through the seams of control slowly receded, whether it was Louis or it was I, we depended on each other to complete the circle of breath. Breath in. Breath Out. One without the other, the fundamentals of life could not go on. 

“It doesn’t mean I have to be your equal,” he said in the silence of our breathing. 

“Utter nonsense!”

“Shush, listen to me," his voice is patient. "I do not have all this ancient-”

“Then take it!”

“You obviously like to perpetuate this notion of me being the weaker one.”

“Because you are. You could be in danger-”

“With you virtually marking me your minion-”

“I never used that word.” 

“There are very few Blood Drinkers out there who has not read your New York Times Bestsellers.”

“Stop rubbing it in,” I couldn't help laughing. 

I didn’t have the heart to be angry. Pulling back to look into his face, to see his animated expression and Louis had the most lively wicked gleam in his eyes. I wanted to hold him, keep him hidden away and never let anyone know how unabashedly amusing and witty he was. And I kept him in my embrace knowing he needed to go, the time limit making the moment more poignant suddenly.

“Is there a point to this argument?” he said. "Or merely some delay tactic."

“Why must you always utterly destroy the perfect moment?” I complained.

He hummed a non-committal sound. “Let's be reasonable and honest."

"Yes, alright," I decided to follow along.

"You would never do something if it was not what you wanted. And this, was not what you wanted, it was thrust upon you just as immortal life started right from the beginning.”

“You think I don't want it? No man would say no to power,” I tightened my hands on him slightly. “Not even you. You’re denying me just to prove a point.”

“You would not have it any other way too,” he leaned in and kissed the side of my face.

I wanted more than the soft press of his lips, I wanted more than the suggestion of fangs pressing on my neck. I wanted more and he took my hands and painted a wet stripe on my wrist with his tongue, right on the pulse. A second of weakness and he was out of my arms and making his way out of the door. It took me a second too late, the door clicked shut and then his steps, I heard them distinctly moving through the hallway and down the stairs at a relatively brisk pace.

Slippery bastard.

I could easily catch up but it was pointless. The grand interlude was over and nothing could salvage it. Now Louis had exposed us to the intrusion of unwanted company because he brought it back, like the way syrup laden pancakes brought in bees. And these younglings required less reasons to ensconce themselves in Louis' company.

We were just about settling into a new normal, or working toward a new normal before this ridiculous incident. And I so very much hate to share him with anyone, not even you, my dearest heart of hearts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It proves very challenging editing this part as what I wrote years ago didn't work well so I've ended up chopping off chunks but as a result also updated with a comment or two with the way canon continued to devolve. Hope it works :)) ever so grateful to everyone who is reading and appreciating.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this spec was the news of a 'mystery' about a burnt out baby grand piano at Florida Keys in 2011. The spec had been sitting in my mail for a long time. With the current situation, I thought to give it a dusting and post it. Who cares anyway... The last chapter's iffy, I can't remember how I wanted it to end...LOL! 
> 
> For anyone who cares, I used to post as WhiteMist.


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